


sleeping

by aresentfulcaretaker



Series: warm ups, complete and incomplete [1]
Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: Post-Mission: Impossible - Rogue Nation (2015)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 16:05:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15710610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aresentfulcaretaker/pseuds/aresentfulcaretaker
Summary: Benji has nightmares.





	sleeping

Passengers from Tokyo take an hour to get through customs. By then, Benji has been lulled into a patient, people watching stupor. The sight of Ethan, in his long black coat, suitcase trailing behind him, seems almost a figment until Benji's mind realigns itself. 

Ethan looks run down. Which, after reading the mission report, doesn't surprise Benji. What does surprise him is how Ethan is letting it show. Surrounded by strangers, he must feel some sense of privacy. One Benji could be interrupting, here uninvited and unannounced. It may have been presumptuous. 

But it's too late to leave. Ethan has spotted him. His exhaustion disappears and his course changes. 

"Got something for me?" He asks, his eyes falling to the files laying atop Benji's bag in the seat beside him. 

"Oh," Benji grabs them and stands, shoving them into the bag's back pouch. "No, I just thought I'd give you a lift. I... That's strange, isn't it?" 

"A little. But I'm not complaining. Lead the way." 

The parking structure is freezing. Flurries drift in through the open sides, collecting along the cement seams of the building. Ethan is better dressed for the cold, as Japan's winter is already in full swing. Benji leaves him to load his suitcase while he gets the heat going. 

The car is old and ordinary and it lessens with Ethan's presence. He appears out of place in the passenger seat. This impression must be one sided, though, as Ethan is at ease. He's looking around at the hastily contained chaos. Benji's half hidden snack wrappers, the scattered CD cases of opera compilations, tangled chargers. He takes a peek inside the glove box and finds the snacks themselves. Benji offers and he takes to a Snickers bar. 

"Alright," Benji says as they spiral their way down to street level. "Where am I going?" 

Ethan gives him a look. "You don't know?" 

He does, though he's not supposed to. The same way he's not supposed to know when and where Ethan's flights get in. 

"Oh, well. How do you usually go?" 

They turn out onto the thin strip of road that leads out of the airport. Ethan gives him directions as they go, down the highway and eventually off an exit. He finishes the Snickers and adds the wrapper to the pile. 

Nearly to the apartment, he points out the window. "You want some coffee?" 

Benji parks them as close as he can and they hurry inside. Nearly empty, there's no line. Ethan orders for them both and refuses the crumpled dollar bills Benji offers to cover his half of the total. 

"I got it. You grab us a table." Then, before Benji can argue, "Think of it as a thank you." 

Picking a booth, Benji sits and pulls out his phone. Ethan brings the drinks and they sip in silence. It's comfortable until Benji replays their discussion in the car. 

"I shouldn't know where you live," he says, apologetic. 

"Doesn't surprise me. Doesn't bother me either." 

"Still." 

"If it bothers you, let's make it even. Where do you live?" 

Benji suspects he must already know, as he always seems to know everything. But he appreciates the opportunity he's being given and so he recites his home address without hesitation. 

"Nowhere near here." 

"No, opposite side of the city." 

"Long drive home." 

"I don't mind. I like driving at night." He looks out the window. City lights reflect off the snow, creating an immense but soft brightness that illuminates the whole intersection. "So how did everything go? With the mission?" 

"According to plan." 

"Must've been refreshing. You were only gone a few days, right?" 

"Less than a week. Why aren't you out in the field?" 

Benji hopes the discomfort he feels for that question doesn't register on his face. He does his best to look and sound untroubled as he answers. "They wanted some help with the archives. Organization, digitizing. It's been keeping me busy." 

"It's good to take a break. Get some rest." 

"That's funny, coming from you." 

"You look tired," Ethan glances over his face. "How long have they had you benched?" 

"Not very long. It's not work, anyway. That's got me tired. I'm just adjusting to the hours. Regular nine to five. It's different." Benji forces himself to shut up and stop babbling, stop being so obvious. 

"It'll get better," Ethan tells him. He says it with that absolute certainty of his. Benji finds it easy to believe him. 

- 

The apartment complex is tucked away in an almost suburban area. It's a collection of stout, dismal buildings. Not a place one would expect to find Ethan Hunt. But, of course, that must be the point. To be unexpected. 

The car sways slightly as the suitcase is taken from the trunk. Benji waits inside for Ethan to pass, to leave. Disappointment looms, its own dreary edifice. He considers going back to the coffee shop for another drink. But there's no appeal in going alone.

Knuckles tap the driver's side window. Benji rolls it down. 

"Come up," Ethan says. His tone is friendly, welcoming. It would be rude to argue and so Benji doesn't try. 

They chat in the elevator and are stopped at the door. Ethan isn't sure which key on his ring belongs to the lock. It must be his jetlag kicking in, Benji thinks. He helps get them inside and takes Ethan's coat for him, hanging his own with it. 

"Help yourself to anything you'd like,” Ethan says. “I'm going to shower." 

Benji watches him go and then looks around, feeling awkward. He gravitates to the kitchen. It's almost entirely empty with nothing but coffee, tea, and nonperishables. He fishes a can of chicken soup out of the cabinet and checks the drawers for a can opener. 

- 

It's a little more than an hour before Ethan returns. The reason is obvious. Dressed only in a pair of black pajama bottoms, his bandages are uncovered. So are the fresh stitches on his shoulder and the bruising on his side. 

"What's that face?" He asks, refusing the offered bowl of soup. 

"Me, talking myself out of saying anything about that," Benji waves a hand at the DIY medical work. 

"I don't need a hospital, if that's what you're worried about." 

"Did you happen to stop at one while you were in Tokyo?" 

"No time. But after all my many, many years in this line of work, I can tell when I need one and when I don't." 

Benji shakes his head and drinks the rest of his soup straight from the bowl. 

Ethan takes it from him and asks, "Tea?" 

"Shouldn't I be going? You're at least going to sleep, aren't you?" 

"I am. But it's early. And it's been a while. Have some tea." 

It has been a while since they've seen each other. It's reason enough for Benji to give in easy. 

Most of the living room area is taken up by a sofa set. It's arranged in a wide arc around a large glass table. At the table's center, there is a vase. Flowers overflow from it in sepia tones, dry and dead. Benji counts their fallen petals until Ethan brings the tea. He gives Benji his mug and goes to lie down on the right arm loveseat. 

"This is good," Benji says, of the tea. 

"It is." 

"Why do you sound surprised?" 

"I got it at the airport. Duty free." 

"Didn't peg you for an impulse buyer." 

Ethan shrugs, the gesture stiff with injury. "It was cold. Tea sounded good." 

Benji pictures him out in the cold, sprinting through snow drifts, fighting as his body goes numb. He wonders if the real worry was exposure rather than cuts and bruises. He wonders how different a blizzard is from a sandstorm. 

The silence created by his contemplation stretches, unchallenged and unfilled. Benji glances over at Ethan, thinking he might be lost in thought, too. He's not. He's asleep. 

It's abrupt and, for a moment, Benji thinks he might have just have closed his eyes. He tries waving a hand, tries saying Ethan's name softly. No response. Ethan lies still, his breathing slow and steady. 

Leaving seems the appropriate thing. Benji washes out his cup and goes to grab his coat. As he passes by the back of the sofa, he makes sure he hasn't disturbed Ethan. He's hasn't. 

It's hard not to notice the way sleep ages Ethan. Without the vitality he retains while awake, the years seem to settle in the lines of his face. He looks how he did coming out of customs. How he sometimes does in the field. 

On the way home, Benji thinks about the relief a typical person gains from leaving their place of work. Against that measure, the relief someone like Ethan feels must be much greater. There must be comfort in those typical, ordinary people. Benji wonders if Ethan finds that same comfort in him. 

There are times when Benji's feelings of inadequacy haunt him worse than his nightmares. But in this context, he feels almost glad to have them.

 

* * *

 

Two days later, Ethan is whisked off to Greece. Benji checks the team they've sent with him. Jane is there and that puts him at ease. 

In his own department, Benji is the best and brightest. He completes his assigned work with time to spare and no one notices his video games. He continues to leave early and should he be late, is forgiven. 

Mornings are hard for him. He often wakes from nightmares. One might think that would give him plenty of time to get ready and out the door. But by the time he sits down to breakfast, the lost sleep has caught up to him and he dozes as his food goes cold and soggy. 

He has several dreams which reoccur without pattern. In one, he sits at the cafe on the end of his street. He's wearing Solomon Lane's bomb vest. Ethan and Ilsa comes to join him, oblivious. He wakes up when the timer runs out. In another, Solomon Lane is there with him, hands on his shoulders, guiding him through a crowd of tourists. They're at the Kremlin. Benji spots a little red balloon drifting purposely overhead. He spots a man in a mask heading inside, alone. 

From his half hearted researching, he finds this blurring of ordinary and less ordinary past events to be common. He finds lists of what could be the cause. Not yet ready to open this particular Pandora's box, Benji never gets further than skimming. 

- 

This time, Benji gets himself a burger from the McDonald's at the end of the international arrivals building. He eats it standing, out the way of the queue. 

Ethan doesn't seem to be expecting him when he emerges from the automatic doors. Doesn't so much as glance at the line of people waiting with name cards and gifts. He moves off to the side, not far from Benji, to put his passport away. It's then he scans the room, the seats, those standing farther back. McDonald's is the last place he looks. He does a double take upon spotting Benji and his face splits into a wide smile. 

They talk about the mission, stop at the same cafe. Benji attempts to pay but is thwarted again. As he waits for the coffee, he closes his eyes. He wakes fifteen minutes later, Ethan sat across from him, scrolling through his phone. 

"Could've woken me up." 

"You looked like you needed it." Ethan sets his phone aside. "You back out in the field?" 

Benji pops the lid off his cup and takes a gulp. "No, not yet." 

"Archives keeping you busy?" 

"What can I say? They love me." 

"I don't doubt it." Then, "I could get a taxi, if you want to head home." 

"Don't be ridiculous." 

They finish their coffee. Ethan offers to drive. He is told to either sit quietly in the passenger seat or he will be put in the boot. Despite this threat, he invites Benji up. They take off their coats and start with tea this time. When he's finished his first mug, Ethan says he's going to take his shower. 

"Can I just ask..." 

"Yes?" Ethan pauses, midway to the hall. 

"How bad - I mean, are you hurt?" 

"I'm fine. Oh, I almost forgot." He crosses to where he’s left his suitcase. He takes a package from the front pocket and tosses it to Benji. "I got cookies." 

They're crumbly and taste like honey. Benji munches them as he waits and wanders. There are frames on the walls, all still holding their stock photos. Bookshelves line a far corner. Benji skims their spines and smiles when he spots Fleming. 

"Something catch your eye?" Ethan calls as he returns to the kitchen. He wasn't gone as long, looks less worse for wear. But then, he's wearing a shirt this time. And Benji is nearly certain he can make out the bunching of bandages beneath its fabric. 

"No." 

"How are the cookies?" 

"Delicious. I can't stop eating them." 

Ethan approaches, a fresh cup of tea and the half empty package of cookies in hand. "You know, they got me going to Oslo next week." 

"If you have notice it can't be that high stakes." 

"It's not. Just surveillance." 

"Seems beneath you." 

"They want me involved in case things escalate." He sits. "You want to come?" 

It's Benji's turn to do a double take. He wasn't expecting a job offer, though it wouldn't the first time Ethan's asked. 

He can't accept. Couldn't even if he wanted to. He'd have to go through the proper channels, get transferred back. It would take too long. Ethan could have it done faster but Benji would have to explain why first. And that was not a discussion he is prepared to have. 

"I'm sure whoever they have picked out will do just fine. Best not to mess with things." 

"There's no one, actually. Not yet. I requested I choose my own team." 

Benji isn't sure where to look. His gaze falls to the table, the vase. The dead flowers have been replaced with fresh ones. "Oh." 

"Something wrong?" 

"I'm just surprised. And busy. I told you. I'm not sure what to say." 

"Say yes. We'll get it figured out." 

"Ethan." His voice isn't as strong as he needs it to be. He clears his throat and tries again. "Ethan, I can't." 

"Why not?" 

"I just... I just want to get this desk work done. I don't want to fly to Norway and have it waiting for me when I get back." 

Ethan nods, takes a bite of cookie. "Next time then." 

The conversation turns to lighter things. The weather here, the food in Greece. Ethan shifts to lying down. It's not long before he dozes off. Benji isn't surprised this time. And he's not so quick to leave. He stays, acclimates to the room. Not entirely alone but at ease, nonetheless.

  


* * *

  


This becomes a habit of theirs. Benji knows it's more him than Ethan, the way he keeps showing up at the airport. But Ethan goes along with it without question. 

It's the fifth time they're at Ethan's apartment when their routine changes. On that night, Benji falls asleep, too. 

In hindsight, he doesn't remember his consciousness slipping away, only realizes when it's returned. He's shaking. A hand touches his shoulder and, startled, he throws a weak punch. Ethan takes the hit and tries to calm him by speaking in a soft voice. 

"It was just a bad dream," he says. 

"Oh, is there another kind? I'd forgotten." Benji takes deep breaths to even out his breathing. Then he asks, "Did I wake you?" 

"No. You alright?" 

"Fine, now. Sorry about that." He sits up. "I should go." 

"No, you shouldn't. You should lie down." Ethan's tone is firm, asserting. It reminds you how capable he is, how unquestioned he should remain. 

Benji attempts to do as he's told but a hand at his ankle gives him pause. "What are you - " 

"No shoes on the couch." Ethan pulls off his left shoe and sets it aside. 

"You don't have to - " 

The other comes off. "Lie down, Benji. I'll get you some water." 

"I don't need any water." 

"It couldn't hurt." 

Ethan disappears from his line of sight. The fight goes out of Benji in the time he gone. He accepts the glass without complaint. Ethan takes a seat on the table, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. 

"You don't want to talk about it." A statement, not a question. Unargumentative. 

Benji nods affirmative. 

"If you go back to sleep, will it happen again?" 

"Maybe. Probably." 

"Is it better or worse if someone wakes you?" 

"I don't know." 

Ethan pauses to think, then asks, "Do you want to go home? I'll drive you." 

It's a kind offer. One Benji is compelled to refuse. It would be the polite thing to do. But, looking at his shoes, he sense that what he's really being asked in the inverse of the question. If he wants to stay. 

"I think I'll just try going back to sleep." He watches for an indication he's judged incorrectly. There is none. 

"There's a guest room," Ethan gestures towards the hall. 

The sofa is taking a toll on Benji's back. But he imagines himself shut up in a strange room, alone with his thoughts and fears. Ethan close but not close enough. 

"Here is fine," he says. 

Ethan doesn't question him. He just nods and returns to his portion of the sofa. He's barely down a minute before he's back asleep. 

It takes Benji a little longer. He lies staring at the ceiling, at the lines the places it meets the walls. Then he looks at his socks. The way he and Ethan are lying, their feet almost touch. He bends an ankle, his toes just missing the skin of Ethan's foot. He falls asleep estimating the distance between their soles.

  


* * *

  


Ethan goes away again. He's bounced from city to city, mission to mission. Benji keeps track on a mental map, checking the reports he has access to. And the ones he doesn't. 

Things in his department slow to a crawl. He's restless and discontent but determined to make peace with it. He's not yet ready to return to the field. The thought alone gives him a minor panic attack. His nightmares continue. There's an over the counter sleep medication that helps. 

On the days when it doesn't, his private thoughts turn to Ethan. The comfort he provided that night in the apartment seeps into all previous memories involving him. Benji replays them in his mind like episodes of a cherished television show. They're not frightening in hindsight. He always knows how they will end. And there is comfort in that, too. 

- 

Ethan's flight lands late in the evening. The arrivals area is empty. Benji stands at the end off the ribboned off lane. He's brought coffee this time. Paid for both the drinks and pastries. Spending money has never felt such a win. 

He assumes this means they won't stop. And he's half right. Ethan has a different idea. 

"Dinner," he suggests. "There's a place on the way." 

"Aren't you tired from all the traveling?" 

"Hungry. And I wouldn't mind some company." 

Despite the restaurant being reservation only, they're given a table. It's tucked away in the corner. Ethan sits with his back to the wall. 

"Do they keep a table for you?" Benji asks. 

"No. They're just used to me showing up." 

Benji orders chicken, Ethan steak. There's water and wine. The appetizers do nothing to distract their appetites. They're both starving, Ethan more than Benji. He hasn't eaten in fourteen hours. 

"I know, you have to take food where you can get it. But on airplanes," he shakes his head. "Just makes me sick." 

Their meal arrives. Conversation turns to companionable silence. It's validating for Benji to feel the comfort he so often seeks in memory outside his own head. 

Neither orders dessert. Ethan pays. 

"You have got to stop doing that," Benji says on their way to the coat check.

"Old habit."

"If ever there was someone who could change at will."

"You give me too much credit."

"I give you exactly as much credit as you deserve after having done what I've seen you do."

They set out for the car, heads bend against the harsh wind. When they reach it, Ethan pauses to look over at him. His expression is one Benji doesn't understand.

"What is it?" His words are almost taken by the wind.

"Nothing."


End file.
